Gay Erotic Stories

“Where?” I brought the beers over beside him, bent to check out his exposed half ass. Looked for all the world like a giant egg, an ivory curve so perfect and pure, no sign of a tattoo.

“Wait … wrong side, I think, the mirror fucks me up.” He turned a bit, shoved down the other side of his drawers, left his whole ass hanging out but there was the little devil, pitchfork and trident tail and all, the red devil from cartoons except this one had a goatee and a tiny dick pointed out from his crotch.

“Hey! Damn, I thought you was lying … that’s cool as hell, man! I wanna touch him for luck …” And I did, I slid my fingers over the red image and thought of Charlie prone on a bright lit table while some guy got to do it to his pale ass.

“Hey, you playing with my ass?” he laughed, pulled up his drawers and struggled to get his jeans up with one hand, grabbed a beer with the other and turned it up to chug it down.

“Did it hurt? Bet you was drunk, huh?” I couldn’t get the sight of his slender, beautifully curved ass from my mind. Tonight he’d shown me his dick and his naked ass. Still no sex in sight but all the road signs … was it me? Was I letting his signals slide past? My thoughts were not trustworthy, stewed in alcohol and desire, I’d come up with any excuse to give it a try, right?

“Yeah, hurt like hell and I 'uz drunk, too … Little Jap guy did it. He's playing with my ass the whole time. Made me crazy, squeezing my ass and all … fucking perv …” He gave me a grin, tossed his arm around me and laughed. “Not you. Ain’t meaning you, okay? You all right, man. You all right wid me.” He nuzzled his face on my shoulder.

“You all right wid me, too, man…” I wrapped my arms behind him and gave him a firm hug. “We got to sit down, we’re woozy” I was reluctant to let go the luxury of naked flesh, the musky smell and fullness of him.

“Woosy as hell … bed, better get my ass to bed … shit!” He toppled against me, nearly fell. I bit my lip to keep steady, concentrated.

“Yeah, I got cha, put you to bed, yeah …” I guided him, supported him, led him. Seemed like an hour to get to his bedroom and he sat down, fell back across the mattress with his arms spread wide as gull wings. His jeans were already half off, down to his knees. I pulled off his boots and socks, got the jeans over his feet and struggled to get him turned right side up on the pillow. He stirred as I tugged him around, tried to sit up.

“Lay down, man… It’s okay, now.” I muttered to him, reassuring, soft.

“Spinning, everything’s spinning …” He grabbed at my arm.

“’sokay, okay …. Go to sleep. Damn, that hurts! Let go, now…” He was clutching tight.

“Don’t lee’ me … estay by me …” He tugged at me.

“.. I gotta get going, man … you safe, now … go to sleep, alls right?”

“No! You’re not going anywhere, son. You can’t drive.” Pop came up behind me and I jumped, startled. “Might as well climb in there with him, I ain’t gonna let you drive, you hear?”

Something wonderful about the commanding tone, the orders that I wanted so much to follow … I didn’t offer any argument, sat down heavy on side of the bed. Charlie lay back, relaxed with my weight beside him.

“Can you undress yourself?” Pop waited.

“Yessssir… I can, I can …”, the spinning hit me, too.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” I heard a chuckle. Last thing I remembered.

I woke with that surreal sensation of lost dreams, dim light, unfamiliar surroundings, and strangely unconnected memories. I knew his smell. This was Charlie snuggled on my shoulder, his knee lapped over my thigh, his coarse breathing tickling my nipple, his palm flat on my ribs. I raised my head, blinked myself into reality. His room, his bed … sour-sweet whisky still under my tongue and a green blanket I’d never seen before tangled down around our legs. My last little panic died away when I resolved it into Sunday morning. I was off, no work today.

A floorboard in the hall creaked and Pop’s face leaned into the room, big grin, “You both still alive?”

“Yes sir.” I cleared my throat; thick mucus lodged there and made my voice a growl.

“Good, glad to hear it. Thought so from all the snoring came out of here last night!” He pushed off, called from down the hall. “I’m going to Aunt Betsy’s, be gone all day, I guess. You boys sleep all you want.”

I wondered if I should call back to him … wanted to say “thank you”, but I wasn’t sure that was appropriate.

Charlie's head moved, his thigh slid off mine. “Pop gone?”

“Yeah.”

“Mmm,” he rolled to his back, arched his spine and stretched. His hard dick pushed up the front of his white jockeys in a ludicrous display. He opened his eyes and saw the direction of my stare, raised his head to look down and he grinned. “So what; yours too?” He gave my tent a little playful tap and rolled away, slid back against me and I turned to him, wrapped my arm over him and my hand to his belly. I scooted up against his ass.

He lay still but the resistance was still there in a tight squeezed, tensed butt. “Can’t let you fuck me, you know?”

“I don’t want to, don’t worry. I don’t even think about that.”

“Okay.” I felt him relax. He didn’t scoot away.

“Just like to feel close to you, that’s all.”

“Yeah, okay.” We were still a while. I focused my senses. I could feel a pulse under my hand, somewhere near his navel. With a small, slow slide my fingers I touched the rubbery tip of his dick and felt the cool damp spot on his shorts. He pressed back with his butt against my tight trapped dick.

Half asleep, groggy, almost unthinking, I wriggled my fingers under his waistband and closed my fist around his cock. I didn’t try and excite him, just held him gentle and close. We drifted a while, near dream state and vague. He stayed hard as I did. No action seemed necessary, just the holding, the sharing, the intimacy of skin … it was enough.

He stirred, first, shoved his legs down straight and shivered with a tight held clench of his whole spine and rigid leg muscles. I melted against his back, knew it was soon over.

His hand came down to cover mine and he squeezed it against his dick, fist formed over fist. Then he clasped my wrist and tugged my hand away, sat up. “Gotta piss,” he muttered. He left a hollow and cool emptiness behind. “Come on. We both need a shower.” He called after me. “Bring the smokes.”

I got to the bathroom in time to see him step out of his shorts. He already had the water going and steam roiled up at the ceiling. He turned to me, naked, and his cock jutted up in a wobbling dance. “Light me one … Hand’s wet.” He followed my glance down to his bobbing cock. He grinned. “Can’t piss in the commode like this,” He slapped at it, made it flop stupidly. “Thanks, yeah …” He took the lit cigarette in his lips and sucked a deep drag, clenched his eyes and told me, “You take it, now. That’s enough.” He leaned his face towards me and let me take the cigarette from his mouth. “We could both use some mouthwash, too.” He grinned.

Then he climbed into the huge tub and that was about the most beautiful thing I’d ever witnessed. His muscled, wonderful body, the glittering water, the steam, the glare of white tile, the sunlight flooding through the high window … dream stuff, visionary stuff. He moved like a dancer, not a ballet dancer, a warrior's dance. Strength radiated from his limbs, his swelled out chest, his tossed back neck and his curved back. “Watch, like one of them Italian fountains, huh?” He pissed a bright gold stream up and out from his body, a spiraling, twisting stream that fell to the tub in a glorious described curve like a diagram from Leonardo’s notebook. He was still erect and looked to stay that way. He watched my face and grinned his pleasure of my enjoyment. A bold boy, a gleaming satyr, pre-Christian god-man, dios-homoerotic- Pan. My Hermes, my laughing Buddha. I disappeared, was not a clay made thing to disturb this wavering, almost real vision. I was spirit, dreamer, visionary, only. Observer, chronicler, the light gathering lens, the camera. He laughed, brute, chortling laughter that shook his chest, rattled in his throat and made him cough. “Grab me a towel, will ya?” His hands reached up to grasp the curtain rod, one foot lifted to the rim of the tub. He watched my eyes, amazed and delighted. I didn’t blush, had no shame although I thought I should if I had any pride or modesty left. I didn’t have.

The cigarette still burned between my fingers. I was stunned. It had been an hour, hadn’t it? He took the towel and the smoke, nodded to me… “Go ahead, your turn. I want to watch.”

So different, the change of places; I was no god to visit a stunned worshiper. I was nervous, fidgety, nor any kind of graceful under his cool and curious glance. He sat on the commode, dried his feet as he watched. Not so detached as I expected. His eyes tracked every inch of my body and never a smug brow or a lifted nostril to show any distaste of what he saw. But no worship, not that I could see and I didn’t expect it. He was pleased, though. I saw contentment rather than excitement. My hard-on melted under his scrutiny and he went soft as he sat smoking and blinking away the stray curls of blue smoke.

He gave me a towel when I finished. “You didn’t piss …” He leaned in towards my ear, rubbed his nose along my jaw. “Go ahead, I want to watch …”

Shame came then, a small creeping thing that tensed my belly and tightened the very tingling muscle I wanted to relax. My full bladder overcame the modesty, however and I spewed a sputtery hard stream towards the drain that splashed back against my feet and legs.

Charlie leaned his head in and watched with no trace of shyness or constrained distaste. He twitched his nose and grinned up at my face. “Smells like stale beer, don’t it? Wash off your feet again, it splattered.” He directed me like a child and I felt childlike and silly. He bundled the towel around me as I stepped out, wrapped me in it and hugged me close.

“Oh, yeah … Better brush our teeth, huh?”

He went first and handed the brush over to me when he was through, gargled mouthwash while I brushed. Sweet, peppermint flavored wash, it tasted like cough syrup.

Naked, hip-to-hip at the wash basin. It felt very common, of a sudden, like we’d done this a hundred times before. Domestic, I thought. Familiar as long time lovers and yet we’d never … Would we ever? I didn’t think so. He gave me all he could, I thought. More than I expected more than I hoped for in shared intimacy and openheartedness. An intimacy of brothers, of perfect companions, of warriors and athletes … and much more. That’s all he can give me and I should not want more, damn. What an egoist I am, to want him to be like me, to think less of his gift for being short of my desires. He is a man, a real man, after all.

I leaned my shoulder against his, a playful bump, a jostle, and watched his face in the mirror. “Thank you, buddy … just ... thanks. That was pretty great. I’ll never forget it. Let’s go out for breakfast, okay? Hardies or the Pancake House …?”, I used my fingers to smooth my short hair into order. He was watching my eyes, studying my face, unsure, hesitant.

“But, I thought we’d go back to bed a while … you know?” Then he grinned at the dumbfounded shock on my face. “But if you’d rather eat a pancake than me, can’t say I blame you …?”

“You mean … all this time, you …” I stuttered.

“I thought you…? You don’t want to?” He pulled his brows down. “You said you wanted to … you held it, my … this morning, remember?”

“Sure I remember … but ... You?” I turned to him, not the mirror, the real face. “Do you want to?”

“Yeah, I wanted to last night but I got drunk too quick" His peering look went from one of my eyes to the other. “Hell, I always wanted to look right at a man, not have to hide it, not shy away … you know? All those times I showered with my army buddies? I always wished I could just look, stop worrying about it, just fucking LOOK, you know? It feels so chicken shit to duck your head, spy on somebody from the corner of your eye … You think I didn’t enjoy this? The shower and everything? Hell, didn’t you see I liked it? Maybe I’m not so perfect as you thought, huh? Tried to tell you… Disappointed in me? Huh?” He dropped his peering glance.

“Never, no matter what. Come on, let’s just go back to bed and relax, got all day to eat breakfast … no hurry.”

We lay down side by side and this time it was Charlie got a case of the sudden modesty. He reached down to pull the quilt up over us and we lay there a while, still and not touching.

“You want me to …? I don’t know how to start …”

“Don’t start at all, just be here with me. Forget about it a minute, okay? Don’t rush it, make it awkward … come on over here, like when we woke up this morning. That was nice.” I shoved my arm under his neck and pulled him closer. He shifted slow, at last slipped his head over onto my shoulder and his hand came up to my chest. It fidgeted there, unsure, nervous. “And your leg, put it over mine … higher, turn more this way … Yeah, that’s the spot, exactly. I liked waking up to this. I thought I was dreaming for a minute. Your pop came in and saw us like this, was you awake?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Did that bother you? Embarrass you?”

“Pop? Nawh. He ain’t like that, hell, he told me all about this buddy he had in the old days. Best friend he ever had, you know… said they fucked all night if they had a girl or not. His big joke. I used to squirm when he said it, that embarrassed me … but I guess I grew up some since then.”

“What was that? A week ago?”

“Maybe a month …” He raised his head and grinned at me. His knee found my hard dick and he nudged it. “What’s that?”

“Just my flashlight. Roll over and let me spoon on your ass, like this morning.” I teased him.

“Hell, no. I had my shorts on then. Got no defense, now. You can’t fuck me, Donnie … you understand that, don’t you?”

“I wasn’t lying before. I don’t want to, Charlie. Put it out of your mind. Not everybody likes that back door stuff.”

“I sure don’t!” He made it too clear.

“But you’re ready for some front door stuff, huh?” I rolled towards him, shoved his leg aside and let my dick probe for his. Found it, hard and hot.

“Mmmm, yeah … but shut up, okay?” He pumped his groin against me, grunted, ran his hands over my shoulders, clasped his chest to mine and rubbed my back… all the while, our dicks banged away like fighting swords, bouncing, rubbing through harsh pubic hair, finding wet spots of slick slide joy, teasing, slamming into tense union. He liked it, yeah. Who wouldn’t? As the excitement built in him I pressed my face to his, lips at his neck, his ear, his temple… our chin stubble raised tingling nerves across tender skin … his lips were wet on my cheek, he whispered out a sound, a demand … I moved my ear to his mouth and he licked it, murmured … “Now, now”, and he grabbed my head and forced my face to his, his wet lips found mine and he sank into a tight probing kiss. The mouthwash flavor came back strong, his tongue was sweet and then the mint was gone, fresh saliva flowed freely and he tasted clean and bright as a summer branch of fresh water, sun warm and scented with roots and moss. He liked kissing, a pulse jumped in his neck, his throat strained for deeper penetration, tongue lunged into me… This is why he wanted to brush our teeth, the gargle. He wanted this, planned this… I think he even needed it.

I cupped his face in my hands, fingertips swept over his eyes, intimate facial touches, tenderness, affection beyond the desire, affection for it’s own pleasure… gentle, kind, loving. He soaked it up, absorbed it, swooned with it… his eyes rolled up and his smile grew a mile wide, face stretched with unleashed pleasure. I never expected this, the joy of him, the giving and giving and the grateful receiving. He sucked at my tongue and at my lip, my ear lobe, chewed my neck… his mouth was a great source of pleasure for him.

I tracked kisses down his chest, shoving the blanket away, and feeling cool air rush in to the fever hot skin we pumped and harried. His hands came quickly to the back of my head, encouraging me, hurrying me and finally, when I sucked in his long throbbing shaft he was pushing me away, squirming back… groaning, keening then he collapsed his resistance and he came in my mouth with hair trigger suddenness. I’d not yet wetted the skin nor felt him against the back of my throat… he blew at first contact, erupted on touch. He sighed so hard it racked his body; he shivered and pulled me up to his chest, wouldn’t look at my face, and buried his face in my hair.

At last he whispered, “Sorry. I couldn’t hold back. I didn’t mean to …”

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” I shushed him “You were wonderful. So hot, so passionate … it was terrific, Charlie…. “

“Yeah…” He breathed. “… Terrific for me…”

I sat up, leaned back against the headboard and reached for a smoke. He squirmed around, kicked off the blanket completely and nestled beside me. I drew up my knees and he ran his hand under my thighs and fondled my balls. He rose to one elbow and studied my lap … He tugged at my leg. “Shove over here, yeah …” Then he crawled over, lay between my legs, his face on his crossed arms, elbows on my thighs. He stared at my dick, still hard and dripping clear diamonds of wetness. He traced a blue vein with a finger tip. I lifted my hips to the touch, almost jerked up to the stimulation.

He grinned. “You like that? You like me to touch it?” I just smiled. "I didn’t know if you wanted me to do you, too. You never said … just said you wanted my dick." He craned his head forward, ran his tongue tip up the underside of my shaft. “Tastes just like skin, don’t it? Like your neck, or your shoulder.” He explored with his tongue, the flared ridge under the head, savored the rough texture… “And this stuff … What’s it taste like?” He dipped a finger in the slimy drippings, brought it to his nose and sniffed.

“Pretty good, tastes better than jizm. I always liked the flavor.” I dipped a finger, lifted it to my lips. “Salty, musky.” I licked it, a rapid flick of my tongue. He watched, grinned.

“Maybe I wouldn’t like it. Reach my tee shirt, there on the floor.”

“Huh? Why?” I handed it to him. He used it to carefully blot off my dick, wipe away the dribbles, and dry it off. “That's better …” Then he opened his lips and went down on my shaft, deep, pursed his lips to a tight grip and drew away, slow and teasing. He paused at the tip, swirled his tongue around the head … pressed back down and quickly off. His grin was a smirk, a bad boy proud of his mischief.

"Damn!" I grunted, rolled my eyes towards the ceiling.

He laughed, and went down, again. A quick swoop of his lips, down, down, down ... then he came off it and watched from inches away as he stroked it in his fist. His glance bounced from the action to my face, back again... back to my eyes with a worried look of concern but he kept up the strokes, speeded up and squeezed harder. When my breath began to come in little short catches he grinned and kicked it up a notch. I shoved up with my hips, involuntary thrusts that made him bounce. He laughed, kept his attention on my face.

When I spurt it was a geyser, a high spuming shot that cleared the end of my cock by six or eight inches straight up into the air. I jerked into a frozen arc, hips lifted like a bridge. At last I fell back, melted as each new spurt flowed out and down the shaft, dripping over his fingers, sliding across the back of his hand.

He used the tee shirt to wipe his hand then blotted up the mess on me. I lay flat with my eyes closed and tried to get my breathing back under control. He crawled up from his cramped position and pulled the blanket with him. We lay together and shifted, found a comfortable nest of arms and legs.

Just as I was about to fall back into much needed sleep, Charlie's face tilted up to mine and he eased a dry kiss on the corner of my mouth, then he snuggled back down and sighed. We slept.

For almost a month afterwards, Charlie phoned me every night if we were not together. Whenever I left his house he made me promise to call back when I got home. Couple of times he phoned from his ex-wife's house, late at night. He had to change our plans a few times, when she allowed him to stay over. Seemed like it happened over night, but not really, he came by to tell me when he moved back in with her.

"But that don't change nothing between us", he told me, squeezing the back of my neck.

I pulled away, kissed his cheek. "Yes, it does. It changes everything." I backed away, a little shocked, numb.

"But, why ...?" He reached for me and I turned aside.

"Look, man ... it's great news. Okay? I'm happy for you. I know how you feel about your kid and everything .... this is the way you need to live, man ... with her and family. Anything you and me had, well, it's over, now, see? I donno, man ... it don't feel right, does it? Not with you going back over there ... we can't ..."

"Yeah, sure we can", he looked confused. "Me and you? That's got nothing to do with her ... none of her business ..."

I tried to push the pain away. It hurt too much. I was jealous as hell, yeah, and pissed off, too. But I hid that part of it, used guilt and guile, like always. "You can't do it, man. Go be with her. You know it's what you want, what you been wanting for months ... just Be there for her, work it out. If you really want to make it work you gotta work at it, do it right ... you know that." I gave him a sad smile, regretful, but not too much. Shit, I sure wasn't gonna let him see me fall apart.

"Listen, man ... just give me a week or two, then I'll call you, okay?"

"Uh, uh .... don't even think about it." I grinned. "Forget me, concentrate on HER." I shoved at his shoulder, buddy-macho, tough. "You don't think I'm gonna sit around and wait for you, do you?" I laughed, light and playful.

He looked hurt. I liked that look.

"Cut me some slack, okay?" He tried a shrug.

"No sweat. You doing the right thing for you and for the kid, I know it. Just don't try and drag me along for the ride ... good luck, man. I really mean it." I lifted a hand, near his face but let it drop.

"I'm gonna call you, anyway. In a while, a week or so ...." He ducked his head, didn't want to let me see his eyes.

"Okay, whatever, man. But I gotta run, see? I was just heading out the door ..."

"I thought ..." he hesitated.

"Yeah, me too man. Guess we were both wrong, huh?"

"But why ....?" he stammered ...

"Go, just do it ... don't think about "why" ... you're you, I'm me. That's why." I grabbed his shoulders, shoved him towards the door. "Now, go on ... get out of here, okay? I got a date and you don't even want to know who it is!" I laughed.

He gave me a long last look and shrugged. I saw the old mask slide back over his face. "If that's the way you want it. Okay. See ya." And he finally left.

I closed the door and backed up against it and let the tears come. A lot of tears--for me and for him. He wouldn't know how to cry. I did his share for him.

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